~Hallie~
"Can you move?"
The words slipped out before I even fully pushed the door open, but the guy blocking the hallway with his drunk stumbling just laughed.
"No. Fuck you."
Charming. Real charming.
I shoved past him anyway, dragging my suitcase behind me like it weighed a ton, which it basically did, stuffed with everything I owned after ditching my old life. Crescent Bay University in San Luna was supposed to be my escape: new city, new major (psychology, because apparently I needed to figure out my own mess before fixing anyone else's), and zero contact with my toxic family back home.
What I didn't expect when I finally found my assigned dorm room, door cracked open, bass thumping from inside, was walking into a full-blown make-out session.
There was a guy on the second bed, bare-chested and way too sexy for his own good, with lean muscle and sharp lines under the dim string lights strung across the ceiling. Messy black mullet hair falling into his face, silver piercings glinting in his ears, and his hands tangled in some blonde girl's hair as he kissed her like the room was on fire.
The whole place screamed "dude lives here", blackout curtains half-drawn, empty energy drink cans on the desk, posters of bands I had never heard of on the walls. Two single beds pushed against opposite sides, a shared mini-fridge humming in the corner. My bed was supposed to be the empty one, the second one. But I definitely hadn't signed up for sharing with a male. The housing email said co-ed floor, sure, but mixed rooms? No one mentioned that.
I stood there for a second, biting my lip hard enough to hurt, pissed off beyond words. The blonde was moaning softly, completely oblivious, her legs hooked around his waist.
That's enough.
I marched right up to the bed, my suitcase wheels rattling. The guy pulled away just enough to glance over, one brow raised like I was interrupting his afternoon tea.
"What?" he drawled, his voice low and lazy.
I thrust my phone in his face, the room allocation email glowing on the screen. "This is my room. Hallie Gomez. Bed two. So yeah, get off my bed."
He took his sweet time looking at the screen, then dragged his gaze over me, taking his sweet time to go from my red hair tied in a messy ponytail down to my worn sneakers. A smirk tugged at his lips, revealing sharp canines that caught the light weirdly. Green eyes, intense, piercing green, locked on mine.
"You?" He let out a short laugh. "No way."
"Excuse me?" I snapped, heat rushing to my cheeks. What the hell did that mean?
He ignored me completely, turning back to the blonde like I was a minor inconvenience. His head dipped again, lips brushing her neck, hands sliding lower.
Oh, hell no.
I grabbed his the bare skin of his shoulder, surprisingly cool under my fingers, and yanked him back.
"I am talking to you."
He stood up slowly, towering over me now that he was on his feet. Up close, he was even more intimidating, and his green eyes narrowed on me, clearly pissed.
"That won't happen again," he murmured, and for a split second I thought he was going to throw me out the room. The blonde sat up, flipping her hair and glaring daggers. "Bitch, back off. He's taken."
I groaned, loud and frustrated, feeling my face burn. This was not happening. Not on day one.
I grabbed the handle of my suitcase again and hauled it back into the corridor, letting the door slam behind me hard enough to rattle the frame. The bass from whatever party was raging on this floor kept thumping, and people stumbled past me laughing, red cups in hand, like the world was one big joke.
I leaned against the wall, heart racing, cheeks still burning. Deep breaths, Hallie. Deep breaths.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled frantically for the housing office emergency number. It rang forever, voicemail, busy, voicemail again. Finally, on the fourth try, a tired-sounding woman picked up.
"Hi, yeah, this is Hallie Gomez, room 312, Bloomfield Hall? There's been a mistake. I'm assigned to a mixed room, with a guy. He's literally.…..occupied right now. Can I switch? Please?"
The woman sighed like she had heard this a hundred times. "Sorry, sweetie, it's the first week. Housing crunch this year, co-ed floors mean sometimes males and females share doubles if numbers don't match. It's in the fine print. No changes until drop-add period ends in two weeks, and even then, only if something opens up."
"Two weeks?" My voice cracked a little. "I can't—"
"Policy, hon. Hang in there." Click. She hung up.
I stared at the screen, disbelief turning into anger and hurt. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the grimy hallway floor, my suitcase beside me like a loyal dog. People kept weaving around me, some glancing down curiously, most too drunk to care.
My eyes stung. No. Nope. I was Hallie Gomez. I didn't cry over toxic parents, or bombing med school interviews, or starting over at twenty-three with zero plan. I wasn't going to cry over some asshole roommate.
I blinked hard, swallowed it down, and rested my head back against the wall.
"Hey. You okay?"
I looked up. A girl stood over me, holding two red cups, dark hair in loose waves, big kind eyes. She looked genuinely concerned, and it was like a small ray of sunshine breaking through a rainstorm.
"I'm Ariana," she said, smiling softly. "You can call me Rian if you want."
She offered a hand. Without hesitating, I took it, letting her pull me up. "Thanks. I'm Hallie."
"I suppose you're new," she said, eyeing my suitcase with a sympathetic tilt of her head.
"Yeah," I muttered, brushing off my jeans. "Just got the welcome of a lifetime."
"Okay, what room?" she asked, sipping from one of the cups.
"312."
Ariana froze mid-sip, then backed up a step, eyes wide. "No way. You're Roman's roommate?"
I crossed my arms. "Is he supposed to be someone important or something?"
She laughed, but it was more like a knowing huff. "Oh….Never mind him. Come on, you can stash your suitcase in my room for now. I'm right next door, 314."
"Seriously? Thank you. I owe you."
She smirked, already turning to lead the way. "Don't worry about your stuff. Roman ALWAYS disappears between midnight and 2 a.m., like clockwork. And look..." She checked her phone. "It's 11:38. He'll soon leave, and afterwards you can settle in your room."
I followed her, suitcase wheels rumbling again. "Disappears? Like.….magically?"
Ariana glanced back, grin widening. "Something like that." After I dropped my stuff in her room, cute and filled with all sorts of girly stuff, she smirked at me. "Come on, you need the full experience."
"The full experience of what?"
She rolled her eyes playfully. "The party, obviously. One drink won't kill you, and trust me, after dealing with Roman, you'll want it."
I hesitated at her door. "I'm not sure. Is that even—"
"Come on," she said, tugging my arm lightly. "Live a little, new girl. San Luna's waiting."
I sighed, but followed her. What the hell. My night couldn't possibly get worse.
Right?